


Baker's Dozen

by mytholizzie



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Daddy!Killian, F/M, bake shop, single-parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2019-10-22 05:59:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17657252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mytholizzie/pseuds/mytholizzie
Summary: A cute bakeshop owner who closes her bakery once a week to teach little kids how to bake. There’s always one single dad that lingers around after everyone else leaves asking questions. Wait, you want me to teach you too so you can bake with your daughter? Sure come early on Friday nights and I’ll teach you a thing or two. Oops, how did we end up covered in flour and making out on my countertop?? Now your daughter keeps asking if I’m your girlfriend.





	1. Chapter 1

From the moment she could walk and talk, all Emma had wanted to do was bake; every year, she asked her mother for baking supplies - an Easy Bake oven, cupcake cups, icing pens, anything she saw that she liked the look of. Her mother, Sarah tried her best; working double shifts in dead-end jobs didn’t often afford the luxuries of baking supplies, it barely afforded the rent on their studio apartment. Of course, growing up in a single-parent family wasn’t easy, it never was but, it did teach Emma that in order to get what she wanted, she needed to work for it herself.

The moment she could, the blonde took off and left her hometown, pursuing her dreams of being a big-time, celebrity chef, like Gordon Ramsay, or Anthony Bourdain. Emma bought herself a small property on the corner of a busy intersection in Boston, and almost exhausted all of her finances on ensuring the safety deposit, gutting out the original fixings -some convenience store or tobacco shop- before she decorated to her fancy.

It didn’t take her long to get her business going, apparently, folks in Boston had much sweeter palettes than those back in Wiltshire. She somehow didn’t envision that being the case; big-city folk were often more obsessed with their bustling lifestyles and keeping in shape, to be stopping by a low-key, family owned bakery to pick up half a dozen cupcakes. But, she was pleasantly surprised.

After several months and getting through the Valentine’s Day rush for cupcake bouquets and those Nutella-filled, gold-foil hearts that had been making their rounds on social media, Emma decided she wanted to do something else with her business. Her inspiration had come from seeing several children, noses pressed right up against the front window, as she and some of her team whipped up frosting, cookie dough, brownie batter, and she noted the look of awe on their faces, as their parents stared on woefully, knowing that their child would retain that memory for the rest of the day and then beg to bake something once they returned home.

“Are you sure, Emma?” Anna responded to Emma’s suggestion with an exasperated expression.

“What’s there to be sure about? It’s a cool idea. I haven’t heard of any other bake store opening up to teach baking classes.” Emma shrugged impulsively, as she whizzed her spatula around the rim of the bowl, scooping the last of the red velvet mixture from the bowl and into the remaining cupcake cup.

Anna glanced between Emma’s obliviousness and Mrs. Lucas, the widow, who had since taken up making the wedding cakes the store had introduced the previous month. The redhead shook her head and exhaled, “Who’s going to be running these classes?”

Emma nonchalantly tossed a kitchen towel over her shoulder, as she pulled open the pre-heated oven and carefully slid the cupcake tin onto the middle shelf before turning to Anna and kicking the door closed with her foot, “I will.” The blonde busied herself with sorting with toppings she needed for her red velvet cupcakes before she continued, “It’s not like I’m going to get trampled, it’ll be a small thing. Maybe 5-6 families per time, different focus each week.”

“But, what about supplies, security?” Anna pressed.

“Look, it’s not like this was a spare of the moment decision, I’ve thought this through.” Emma stopped and finally looked over at Anna, who was standing beside a steel-lipped Mrs. Lucas, icing roses on the second tier of a Victoria sponge wedding design. Resting both of her hands on the counter before her, Emma added, “I know you don’t want to be a part of this, Anna, and I’m not going to make you. It’s just something I want to do.” She smiled tenderly.

“I just…” Anna began, “If it was any other night except Friday, I would love to join.”

“No, I get it. You’re planning your wedding, it’s fine. I don’t want to put any more pressure on you, wedding stuff is hard.” Emma smirked knowingly over at Anna, “Don’t worry, I got this. Besides, I already posted the official launch on our Facebook page - there’s no going back now!”

The first event was bigger than she had expected; balloons, reporters, photographers and more. She even made the city newspaper, displaying her act of kindness and giving back to her local community. The event-goers were graced with gift bags to take away with them; spatulas, measuring spoons, two tubes of sprinkles and some store personalized cupcake cups, in addition to a step-by-step write-up of the class they had taken during the event.

Subsequent classes went in the same fashion, that Emma needed to set a sign-up sheet on her blog, to control numbers. It was safe to say that Emma had found her niche, and by the time the sixth class rolled around, word had spread further than the city boundary, and families were coming in from Salem, New Haven, even from other states. Of course, the attendees were almost always exclusively mothers with their daughters, sometimes with young sons, looking to make Spidermen or Avengers cupcakes. Occasionally, there were couples, or a husband trying to impress his wife.

After several months, Emma noticed that a tall, dark and handsome stranger had admitted himself into the class, without having signed up beforehand. When she saw he was with a young girl, with similar hair and eyes, she assumed her to be his daughter, and allowed them to stay for the time being. She had seen the girl before, alike the other youngsters whom she had gotten the inspiration from; her nose pressed up against the glass as she watched Emma or Mrs. Lucas spin sugar for a Croquembouche.

“Okay, and as always, as you make your way out this evening, please do find the gift bags with a step-by-step guide to the class from this evening. If you guys would like to see any pictures from this evening’s class, you can follow our Facebook and Instagram, the details are in the pack in those bags. Thank you all for coming, it’s been a pleasure. Goodnight!” Emma smiled as she received her applause, thanks and praise before her patrons filed out with their finished products, to collect their free samples and their promised gift bags.

She noticed that the father hung back a little, as his daughter wandered the store, eyeing the designs and display shelves, wondering how those display cakes could look so appetizing, covered in glue. The blonde flicked her eyes from the little girl to her father and she gave him a gentle smile, “I’m sorry, I really need to get this cleaned up, can I help you?”

He cleared his throat and flicked his gaze to the ground before he lifted his hand to the back of his neck, and scratched at the shell of his ear, “Aye love, I hope so.”

The handsome stranger had an accent that definitely took Emma by surprise. She swallowed and ceased her movements at the counter she had been working behind before she nodded, inviting him to continue, as she rested her weight over one of her legs, causing her hip to jut out to one side, “Sure, what is it?”

“Well, when you said piping bag should have a specific head on it, which one did you mean? Because, I have none of those heads at my apartment, and I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea on where to buy them.” He chortled awkwardly, giving her a lop-sided grin.

“That’s nothing to worry about, everything that we cover in these classes gets written up in the step-by-step guide. Here…” She released the cloth she had been holding and gestured for him to follow her. Emma grasped at one of the remaining gift bags and plucked out the write-up, highlighting what she had meant, “Everything that is needed is listed here, with where and how to buy, and alternatives, if they are not in stock.”

“And, what about the batter? What if it goes dry, or too gooey?” He questioned.

“Then, you gradually add in water and mix, or flour and mix. Don’t go piling in the flour, the tiniest sprinkle can go a long way.” Emma nodded, regarding him for a moment before she glanced back at the girl, doing another round of the store, “I-I really need to get that stuff cleaned up, is there anything else you need?”

“We can help you.”

“No, that’s okay. Cleaning is my way of relaxing after a long day. Thank you for the offer but, it’s fine.” Emma smiled gratefully before she paused, “Are you planning on coming back to these classes?”

“Aye, we were hoping to. Any reason why we shouldn’t, love?”

She ignored his term of endearment and shook her head, “Just a minor technicality; because I’ve been getting a lot of interest, I had to set up a sign-up sheet. It works on a first-come, first-serve basis. I just want to let you know that if you plan on coming back, I’m going to need you to sign up.” She screwed her face up slightly.

He thought for a moment, a pregnant pause wedged between them before he nodded, “Wouldn’t want the other attendees thinking I’m getting special treatment now, would we?” He smirked across at her.

Emma chortled lightly and nodded, “Exactly. There’d be a riot.”

“So, lass, how do we sign up for these classes?”

By the time Emma got back to her apartment that night, it had turned eleven and she was ready to call it quits, and head to bed without dinner, she remembered though, she hadn't eaten anything since the mid-afternoon and swiftly ordered a pizza with a can of soda from the closest pizzeria on her food delivery app. All she could think about what how hopeless the handsome stranger had been, with his abundance of questions and his... flirting?

He hadn't been flirting, had he? If he had, she had flirted right back with him. If he hadn't, then she seemed like an idiot. What if he hadn't picked up on it, though? Her mind raced a mile a minute until her buzzer sounded out, heralding the arrival of her meal. Almost instantly, she dove into the box, sending the delivery boy scuttling in fear that she'd start chomping on him next, as she continued to mull over what had happened during the brief exchange between she and the stranger.

She thought back to his little girl, and how she had managed to keep herself occupied while the grown-ups had conversed; that was a regular occurrence for her, it seemed. He was a single-parent? Emma recognized his daughter's behavior, as she had often had to keep herself entertained while her mother had been talking with neighbors, teachers, friends, civil servants. Suddenly, she felt like an idiot for telling him he needed to be signing up for her classes. The other patrons could care less about someone joining who hadn't signed up, and it was her free class, not theirs, if they didn't agree, they could find somewhere else to go.

Finishing up the last slice of her pizza, bar the crust, she hated those things unless they were stuffed, and swigging back the last of her soda, Emma glanced over at the clock above her mantel and huffed, almost midnight. Sliding out of jeans and tugging on her sleep shorts, Emma decided to forgo removing her make up and just planted herself onto the mattress, tossing her cellphone off in one direction after setting her alarm for the following morning.


	2. Chapter 2

The following Friday afternoon, Emma logging into her blog to check on final numbers and attendee names for her class that evening, she noticed a new attendee's name on the list; Killian Jones. On the sign-up sheet, she had decided to add in a comments section, just in case the attendees had any suggestions or wanted to introduce themselves to her before arriving at the cake shop. He had left her a comment;

_Just in case you're wondering, love it's the guy and his daughter, who crashed your class last week, without signing up. I thought it best to follow the correct protocol this time round._

Emma, of course, grinned like an idiot as she read over the words he had left her on his application to join her class. Of course, he would leave her a note, referring back to the first time they had met, and he'd even continued his flirtations in writing. Emma decided that that evening was going to be more fun than she had anticipated, and they were set to make lemon meringue pies. As she continued to type up the write-up for the take-away bags, she kept flipping between the attendee list, seeing his name there, and her PhotoShop application.

She scrolled down on the page and noticed he'd actually filled in the emergency contact number; Emma was in the right mind to call him just to say that his place had been confirmed. In fact, as she reached across her work bench for her cellphone, she decided it was not a bad idea after all, as she punched in his number. After a brief pause, however, Emma shook her head and copied his contact number, opening up her messenger app, and instead typing out a short message.

_Hello, this is Emma at Blondie's Bakery! We have received your application to attend this evening's baking class with EMMA. Your application has been successful. See you there!_

She hit send, narrowly avoiding adding a couple of xxx's to the end of the message. She did not want to make it too obvious she enjoyed his attention. She needed to be able to scope out his situation; she hadn't seen a ring on his finger when they had met the previous week but, that didn't necessarily mean he was single.

In the past, Emma had been involved several times, with guys who either were only looking to get in her pants or who treated her like she was worth nothing. She was done with feeling like that; if a guy wanted to get into her pants, then it would be on her terms. The last guy she'd been with, right as she moved to Boston, and was getting her business set up, had been the reason she had almost exhausted all of her savings; Neal had been the typical cheeky, charming dude who seemed harmless until Emma found him knuckles deep in Rolex watches back at her apartment before he had taken them out to sell them. He'd gotten busted and had called her to post his bail before he'd cleared out her checking account and gotten outta dodge. 

Emma was not about to let that happen to her again. Killian seemed like he wasn’t the kind of guy who would just leave a woman high and dry but, then she remembered that he had a daughter and wondered where her mother was.

The blonde seemingly worked at warp speed that afternoon, to ensure all of the orders were filled for the birthday, wedding, baby shower cakes and that the bakery was stocked up for the morning rush of early birds who’d skipped breakfast at home in favor of heading into the office for whatever reason. By the time her staff noticed that the orders were almost finished, they realized she was racing against the clock for a particular reason, and it was the older woman who posed the initial question.

“Are you in a hurry, Emma?” Mrs. Lucas questioned lightly, knowing how touchy the blonde could be about certain topics and times of the month. 

“What? No...” Emma lied, “Well, a little. I just want to know everything is ready for tomorrow, we’ve got three birthdays and a wedding cake to deal with, and I’m only just starting on the wedding cake for that charming couple.” She exhaled, impressed at herself for getting everything out in one breath before she continued, “Plus, I’ve got that baking class tonight, and I really don’t want to be staying later than I have to, to be able to finish these orders.”

Anna scooted around the end of the counter then, eyeing and seemingly telepathically communicating with Mrs. Lucas, “So, how about I stay and help out with baking class tonight?” She offered, “Kris is out of town anyway, the distillery is promoting their new Ice label, something-or-other.”

“No, Anna, it’s fine. As long as I can get this cake finished before the baking class, it’ll be fine.” Emma reassured her employee, not really wanting to share the baking class with Anna, who had initially not wanted anything to do with it, if it meant having to stay late without being compensated for it. The blonde glanced across to the redhead as she began to pipe thin layers of icing to make the soft petals for the gentle cascade of flowers along the side of one of the tiers, “Why don’t you call your sister? You’ve been saying that you haven’t seen her in weeks.”

The redhead took a moment to contemplate before she nodded resolutely and agreed with her boss, “You’re right, I should probably call Elsa and see what’s new with her. Are you going to be okay?”

Emma waved off the concern and smiled brightly, knowing she’d be more than fine once Killian showed up with his little girl, “Oh, don’t worry about me, things will work out.”

By the time she had finished coloring the tiny petals, added the detail and gotten them attached to the tier of the wedding cake, leaving her just the finishing touches to complete for the following morning, Emma had cleared away the usual supplies and had gotten out the bake class supplies, folded and set out the aprons and stations for the attendees. When the antique doorbell rung out, heralding the arrival of the first patrons, Emma rushed through to the front of the store and beamed, welcoming her students.

Of course, she had been expecting the dark, brooding single father and his adorable daughter, so she allowed her smile to ease when she came face-to-face with a young-ish couple, both with tanned skin and almost almond shaped eyes, with dark hair, “Hello, I’m Jasmine. This is Al.” The beauty thumbed to the male at her side.

“Of course, come on through, this is your guys’ first time here, right?” Emma smiled softly, “There’s a cooler in the back, help yourself to water. Restroom is through there, if you need anything, I’ll be out front welcoming the rest of the folks.”

Time ticked on, and more and more of the patrons arrived but, there was still no sign of Killian, until almost the last second. As Emma was reaching to bolt the front door, so she could keep her focus on the back room and kitchen area, a series a knuckles rapping against the glass panes alerted her to one more guest; Killian. 

“Sorry, I was delayed, Emma.” Killian exhaled, expelling whatever exertions he had sustained. She noted he was childless this evening. Of course, there’d be an explanation later, once the others had left.

Killian happened to be one of two singles there that evening, the other man, she had seen once before at the class but, had always gotten a creepy vibe from him, like he was only there to leer over her, so during her demonstrations, she used Killian and his work station to model how and when to the rest of the group. It was obvious both of them enjoyed the close contact but, of course, he decided to keep his hands to himself, lest he misread any of Emma’s actions as something they were not.

From across the counter and the island in the center of the kitchen, Emma continued to steal glances at her favorite student as he worked on the recipe and techniques she'd shared with her students. He was breathtaking and she wondered how often he was caught up in the moment of whisking or beating and didn't realize she was staring at him, and how many times he knew her eyes were drinking in the sight of him.

By the time the class finished up, Emma gave her famous wrap-up speech, explaining the contents of the recently updated class package, where people could follow updates and order online. She also explained that there would be a contest coming up for families to enter; one lucky family could win the chance to design a new cupcake and a new logo for the store, as Emma was in the process of opening up in a second location.

She bid farewell to all of her patrons but one; Killian, who stayed behind to help her clean up the kitchen. She would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy his company, perhaps a little too much. Emma knew she couldn't play favorites with her students but, with him, it was all too easy. They cleaned around each in silence for the better part of ten minutes before Emma couldn't hold back any longer, "Where's your daughter?" She queried lightly.

"She's down with a fever, her mother is caring for her this week. We decided it best not to have her between homes while she's not feeling great, so, once she's feeling better, she'll spend more time at my place, to make up for the time we missed this round." He explained, probably sharing too much with Emma. With her, he felt he could, however.

"Oh, so her mom is still in the picture?" Emma nodded lightly.

"Well, not so much. We keep civil with each other, for the little one's sake." He nodded, sweeping the last of the flour from the counter into the trash can, "It's no use her seeing us going at each other's throats. I'm a firm believer in setting a good example for the little lass, kids pay attention to everything."

"Yeah, kids are pretty impressionable. If you and her mom weren't on the best of terms, I'm sure it could cause some rifts in the family." Emma exhaled before she then wet her lips with her tongue and tossed the wash cloth into the basin for rinsing later, "How often does she get to see her mom?"

"She spends most of her time with Milah. I typically get her at the weekends, that's why we started coming to your baking class, so we could bond a little more, instead of just watching a movie in silence or, something equally as time consuming." Killian explained further, "Milah wasn't all that keen on the idea at first, Lord, she wasn't keen on the idea of even having kids at first but, once she re-married, it was evident that we needed to split the time equally."

"Forgive me, what is your daughter's name?"

"Diana." Killian responded, "Milah wanted something a little more European, to reflect her heritage but, we decided on Diana. It's a strong name; from the sea. A goddess, if I remember correctly."

Emma nodded lightly and smiled. She gave a gentle tilt of her head before the conversation turned to discovering facts about her and she began to clam up slightly, "Well, my mom encouraged me to pursue my dreams, and here I am." She beamed, responded semi-evasively to Killian's question about why she opened up a bakery. The blonde, although hesitant to give any details about herself, shrouding herself behind her familiar walls, felt eerily calm with him around, so continued sharing, "I mean, she worked hard to provide for me; making sure I had the best Easy-Bake Ovens and muffin tins, you know, so I could learn the craft correctly."

Killian was amazed at Emma's willingness to share some details about her upbringing, he could tell she was quite the closed off individual, similar to himself. She had suffered loss, like he had but, she still kept going through whatever life threw at her.

"But, enough about me, my life isn't all that interesting." She finally spoke up, obviously changing the subject, "What do you think I should base next week's class off of?" Emma posed lightly, gesturing to the case of recipes she guarded with her life, "The cards in the red wallet are the classes I've already completed, blue are potential and the black ones, they're possibly too difficult to work through in one hour."

He thumbed through the cards in the blue wallet, picking out recipes he liked the sound of, noting their names before replacing them in the order which they had been, to ensure Emma's system remained in tact, if she had one. After several minutes, Emma around the other side of the island finally heard him speak up, "How about this one? It's a pavlova. I've heard they're pretty fast to make?"

The blonde gave his suggestion some thought, "It is starting to get warmer outside, that could be a good idea, actually." She beamed across to him, turning away momentarily to dip and stow several mixing bowls into the cupboard below the large sink. Emma missed Killian's expression as she bent at the waist, her pants taut around her cheeks as she leaned forward and stacked them on top of each other.

"How easy are pavlova's anyway?" Killian questioned lightly, dropping down from the balls of his feet, to relax against the island in the center of the kitchen.

"Oh, I think the fastest I've gotten my pavlovas down to is about an hour, thirty minutes." She shrugged, shaking her head slightly, as she thought to the last time she'd made pavlovas; it had been a time with Neal, he'd invited over 'a few of the boys' and their significant others, so they could meet 'his girl'. Emma had been against the clock, and it had been the dead of summer, the wives had wanted a dessert that wouldn't add anything extra to their hips, or something.

"So, perhaps a little too long for the class, then?" Killian furrowed his brows before he smirked and tossed a glance over to her, "Unless you wanted to set a new record...?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"I can see you seem like the type of person who's up for a challenge. Give it a go, you might surprise yourself?"

The blonde tucked back a strand of flyaway hair as she considered his challenge; she had never really been one to shy away from competition or contests, with Killian's suggestion, she was ready to bite but, instead, found herself probing him, "What's in it for me?"

"You get your time down to one hour, ten... I'll take you out for dinner." He offered her, "To celebrate your new record..."

Emma smirked slightly, the celebratory comment had obviously been added as an after-thought, so as not to seem too eager, which she laughed off, and posed a condition of her own, "I get my time down, you take me out for dinner. As a date." She swept the last trace of flour off the island and into the trash can before she flounced out to the front of the store, leaving Killian to process what she had just proposed.


End file.
